Chapter 49: Too Late

Saint squinted into the gathering gloom, barely able to decipher the black shape in an alleyway off to the left.

“Direbane?”

“Who else?” The deep voice sent shivers down Saint’s back.

Fire stared at the dark figure, confusion written all over his face. “Direbane…wasn’t that your former clan member, Saint? The one that you said had disappeared?”

A deep chuckle. “I didn’t disappear. I just became very hard to find for a very long time. I know how to stay hidden when I want to.”

“So, why show up now?”

“It was Saint that really coaxed me out of hiding.” Fire glanced at Saint.

“I didn’t tell you? We fought each other last night. He’s probably here to finish the job and claim his reward from Kobi.”

This time, Direbane laughed in earnest, his deep voice echoing through the alleyways. “I’m sorry if I made a bad impression on you Saint. I wasn’t in my right mind for a long time after the Executioners had fallen. I thought you had betrayed the clan and ran away to hide yourself. Now I see that I was the real traitor, running off to become a mercenary just to leave behind my past. After Ino died…” Both Dire and Saint closed their eyes and went silent. Ino had been Saint’s best friend, but had died in battle just before Saint merged into Requiem. Her death was still fresh in his memory though.

“Let’s not think about her right now. Are you going to fight us or help us?”

“Help you of course. I can’t turn my back on my former leader now that I’ve seen the truth about everything. Besides, I just talked to Kobi, and he doesn’t have any more money. He went into debt funding this war. No point in fighting for him now.” Saint was a little uneasy, but there was no point in not trusting his former clan member now. They were at war, and any extra help was welcomed.

“Let’s move then. Blizzard is waiting for us.”

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“What’s taking Saint so long?” Blizzard huffed as he tore through a pair of swordsmen. “He took nearly half the clan with him and he’s still late. By the time he gets here, there’s going to be nothing left for him to fight.” Uzamaki shrugged, pulled out a red arrow, and fired it into the sky. It split into pieces in mid-air and burst into flames, raining fire down on a group of soldiers. The two of them had been at this for nearly an hour, fighting wave after wave of troops with only five minute breaks in between. For Uzamaki, it wasn’t too bad, as he was now stationed on the upper level of an abandoned hotel near an open window. Every time he had the chance, he would lay down on a dusty bed and close his eyes until the sound of enemy soldiers marching awoke him. For Blizzard, it was annoying. Not that he didn’t have anywhere to rest; he didn’t need rest. But that the enemy troops weren’t coming fast enough. He dearly would have liked to just keep charging forward, blades whirling, until he found Kobi’s hiding spot. But moving forward would put him in a risky position. The enemy might have laid ambushes for any soldiers that got too cocky.

Blizzard stabbed yet another soldier through the head, watching as blood dribbled down the edge of his blade as he yanked it from the enemy’s skull. The demon blade’s edge glowed as if it were molten in the night, casting a hot red light about him. Even after soaking up so much blood, the blades were still thirsty, drinking anything that spilled onto them and becoming sharper at every kill. Soon Blizzard would be able to slice through a castle without trouble; at the moment he would bury the blade up to the hilt should he drop it onto the cobblestone pavement. In the distance, a rhythmic marching, unlike the random patter of the soldiers he had met so far. Perhaps he was going to meet a professional fighting group at last.

Uzamaki stared down the road. A broad, flat shape was approaching at a steady rate, bristling with spears that towered nearly as tall as the two-story building he was in. Looking down, he could see a layer thick, square shields surrounding the force on all sides, including above, protecting the men inside against any stray arrows that went up against them. Uzamaki started going through his quiver. Did he have any arrows that would go up against this kind of protection?

Blizzard grinned as the force of men approached. This was going to be fun. He began sprinting towards the enemy, eager to meet them head-on. In the darkness, he couldn’t quite tell what sort of soldiers they were. Did that matter? Anything that went up against him was good as dead. Then it hit him. Blizzard jerked backwards, feeling something sharp pierce his ribcage, sliding through his body like a rough icicle just to the right of his heart. He looked down. It was a spear. But how could a spear reach him when he was still twenty feet away. Blizzard felt light-headed, could feel his heart beating against the weapon’s wooden handle. A cough, a red line dribbled from Blizzard’s mouth. He could taste his own blood welling up, filling his lungs, slowly drowning him. He was going to die. Then rage and instinct took over. Blizzard kept running forward, letting the spear slide through his body The soldier holding it looked up and saw Blizzard bearing down on him, despite his horrible wound. Panicking, he dropped his spear and raised his shield to protect himself. Blizzard kept running until he reached the end of the spear, yanking it out of his body from behind, letting blood run freely down his chest. He didn’t care any more.

Two more spears hit him, one in the stomach, the other stopped by his shades. His shades shattered, and as Blizzard yanked his head out of the way, they were left, dangling from an enemy spear-tip. Shields were raised to block off Blizzard’s onslaught, but he shredded them in his fury, taking metal, arms, legs, heads, organs, and blood with each slash. The spear in his stomach withdrew, only to be replaced by three more. Blizzard staggered, blood leaking from his body in many places. His fury outmatched his strength; he could do nothing but flail his limbs as he went down, gasping for breath.

Then Saint was there, an eternity too late, holding Blizzard up and dragging him away from the fight. Direbane dove in, black swords crackling with energy as he began to fight against the soldiers that he had formerly fought alongside. His swords went up against a wall of shields, but didn’t pierce them as effectively as Blizzard’s demon blades. He pulled back before the enemy’s spears could do him harm. Then Fire went to work, drawing golden letters in the air. A shower of fireballs glowed brightly, lighting up the night sky as they came hurtling down upon the enemy. Shields were raised; the fireballs glanced off, unable to burn their way through the metal barrier.

Blizzard kept flailing as Saint pulled him away from the battle. “Stop struggling like that. You’re making it hard for me to save you!”

“I…want…to…FIGHT!!!!”

“You’re in no fit state to fight. We have to pull back, the enemy is too much for us to handle. I still can’t believe you thought of going up against the Chaos Legion alone.”

“The…what…?”

“The Chaos Legion. A professional army made up of soldiers dedicated to Chaos. They use insane defensive and counter-offensive tactics to repel the enemy. I can’t believe you even managed to kill any of them.” Behind them, the Legion kept marching, forcing Fire and Direbane to retreat. Then, another figure appeared in the road, a short distance away from the legion. He was holding a bow. Fire and Direbane turned around and watched as Uzamaki drew a single arrow from his quiver and fitted it to his bow. It was a black arrow. Muttering a single word, Uzamaki aimed, then fired. The arrow sped towards its target, gathering the shadows of the night around it as Uzamaki’s spell went to work. Shields were raised against it, wielded by hands that knew what was going to happen, what had always happened when an archer dared to point an arrow at them.. Then the arrow struck home, turning the first row of soldiers into dust. It kept going, smashing through rank after rank of legionnaires, piercing every shield and everything that got in its way. The last row of soldiers didn’t even have time to turn and run before the arrow had finished them off, killing every soldier in its path, affecting those that weren’t in its path with dark magic. Those that survived turned and ran.

Direbane whistled, while Fire clapped. “Nice bit of work there.” Saint remarked. Uzamaki bowed, Blizzard groaned. Everyone turned to look at Blizzard. Saint was worried.

“Somebody give me a light, let’s have a look at Blizzard’s wounds.” Fire conjured a small orb of light with a fire rune, and brought it close. Everyone gasped.

There were three spear-wounds in Blizzard’s belly. One had pierced his stomach; now gastric acid was eating away at his lower body. More serious than those wounds was the giant hole in Blizzard’s chest. His heart could be seen beating through the side of the wound, feverishly working to keep Blizzard alive.

“You should have died the moment this hit you! How did you manage to keep fighting like this?” Blizzard opened his mouth, more blood came pouring out.

“Priest….can…heal…me…”

“I hope so.”